


The man with the dragon tattoo

by Noah_Jabberwock



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Detective Jesse McCree, Detective Noir, Everyone here is quite a shit, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, M/M, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, POV First Person, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22693264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noah_Jabberwock/pseuds/Noah_Jabberwock
Summary: Jesse McCree hasn’t even heard the name “Shimada” for many years and his life is going not that bad. But when a famous medic asks him for help, Jesse knows that accepting the assignment will make him cross Hanzo Shimada's path again.Jesse is far from ready for that.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Kudos: 18





	1. A night as same as any other. More or less.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, guys! Here a new story because I don't know how to finish the other one, so I will claim it a fail experiment. Well, it happens.  
> I hope you will like this one, it won't last too long, maybe 10 chapters more or less. It's one of those story similar to Sin City, all black and white atmosphere. First person POV, because I'm a masochist.  
> Anyway, English isn't my first language, so if you see horribles mistakes, tell me and I will correct them! If somebody wants to help me with beta reading, it'd be awesome!  
> Anyway, enjoy the reading!

This storm has shut down the grid. This sucks, but I could expect nothing less from this shitty office.

I should sleep, my head is pounding. However, no one will ask for my service. No one ever does, why this day should be different?

I should have drunk less.

I have to take my pills.

A knock at the door. “Ehm … good evening. May I come in?”

Well, maybe I was wrong.

She has the voice of the angels and the steps of a dove. She’s shy as a sparrow, has blonde hair as a doll and two legs that go on for days.

Goddamn, I’d pay to put my face between those thighs.

“Yeah, Dolly, yer welcome. What can Detective McCree do for ya, Pretty face?”

I disgust her, I can read it on her face. She’s already regretted to come to me, she makes a face that anyone would make in front of a spoiled milk can. But she does not step back for going away, she’s courageous. Or desperate.

Her sensual mouth is a thin line. “My name’s Angela Zie...”

“Calm down, Sweety, I’d be a horrible detective if I didn’t know who you are. My question was different: what can I do for a world-renowned medic?”

“I didn’t know you were interested in medicine, Mr. McCree...”

Ah, a great mind doesn’t speak for a great memory.

“Well, milady, I’m not interested in, I’m just grateful to the person who has saved my life and the life of countless soldiers...” My prosthetic shines when a lightning and a loud thunder chastises the city.

Surprise and curiosity light her face. Embarrassment replaces immediately both of them.

“I didn’t recognize you...”

“I’m not blamin’ ya. Now, answer the question.”

She hesitates. She’s going to say something she doesn’t want.

“I … need your help to … find a person.”

I stare at her, I know I have a confused look on my face. The request is not that strange and that’s the problem: if somebody she looks for was lost, the police officers of the entire world would drop what they were currently working on just to help her.

If she’s asking someone like me to help her, there’s obviously something else she’s not telling me. Now, there are two options: or she’s talking about a lover, and that’s the easy way – her wife wouldn’t be happy, the scandal would spread world-wide, it would stain her curriculum of pure angel who help poor cripple soldiers, but it wouldn’t be anything illegal; that’s the second way, and it worries me.

I make a move with my prosthetic hand, inviting her to go on.

She bites her lips with that sexy motion that makes her look so stainless and makes me want to fill her with something not that pure. She should stop, I’m not that sober and I couldn’t restrain the hard on that could appear in my slack.

“I’d like that everything I will say in this room remain between us...” She cares to say.

“You needn’t say that, doll, I know how t’ do my job” I’m already annoyed and don’t want to play the part where I assure her that everything we say is confidential. I usually get quite irritated when the people who knock at my door don’t know who they are dealing with, but I need this job so I will avoid to become too rude.

She gulps, her thin neck bobs with the move and then she nods, taking another step toward my desk. She looks at the two chairs, wondering if they will hold her plum weight and if they aren’t infected.

Apparently, she decides she won’t get the plague by sitting on one of them.

She clears her throat and then looks at me again.

“The person I need you to find is … my lover.” She’s embarrassed admitting it but not guilty. She prefers them to her wife.

And here it’s the bomb. My whistle of acknoledgment could crack the frail glass of the window as I light up a cigar. I don’t even bother if it’s a problem for her: I don’t give a shit, it’s my office.

Angela makes a face but she doesn’t say nothing. Clever choice.

“That’s explain why you’re askin’ me. Tell me, when was the last time you saw them?” I ask as I take a puff of the cigar.

“I met him three weeks ago. We usually text every day but it’s almost a week I don’t get any news from him and when I call him, no one answer...”

I take a long drag of my cigar, swinging a bit on my office chair, trying to think. “How did you meet him?”. I’m not interested in her personal life, but knowing where this man comes from could help me. Maybe I can exclude some kind of surrounding if he’s … I don’t know, another renowned medic or a specific type of patient.

She lows her head and clears the throat. “He’s the brother of one of my patients…”

Wrong way, the information doesn’t narrow the research down. I eye at the woman, inviting her with a glare to tell me everything. The less she says me, the less I can help her. I don’t wanna spend too much time here gathering information from a medic who doesn’t want to speak up instead to be outside to patrol the roads, looking for this man and so the money an oh-so-rich woman will give me if I find him out.

“More or less a year ago I … was forced to heal the brother and implant to him two state-of-the-art prosthetical legs. I met him then. He was … funny, and clever and beautiful on his own way...” She’s still looking at the tips of her shoes; she smiles at the memory of him. God, she’s even more pretty.

“Wait … you said ‘forced’? I never read on newspaper about the famous doctor Ziegler obliged to do an operation against her will...” I know my eyebrow’s arched suspiciously, glancing at her from the tip of the blond ponytail to the hem of her white shirt.

She purses her lips, avoiding my gaze. I’m annoyed again.

“Listen t’ me, Honey.” Finally she looks at me. About time. “I don’t give a shit about the privacy Medic-patiet you are torturing yourself about … want my help? You tell me everything can help me in the case and everything that can make my research a hell on earth. If you don’t, the door is over there.”

I hear a gasp as I inspect my cigar. I lift the gaze only to see her blue eyes soaked in tears before she brings a hand to cover and rub the eyelids.

“You’re right.” Yeah, I know. “The fact is … their family assured the highest privacy for the intervention. This because the family is well known in the … criminal world. I’ve always promised to myself to never extend a hand to that horrible people. God only knows how I ended up in a bed with one of them, but the possibilities of life are endless...” she jokes, half sobbing and half laughing.

I almost feel a shiver down my spine. The illegal part, here it is. I was almost waiting for it.

“Well, doctor, you shouldn’t be so surprised if your lover just disappear. If he was part of the underground of the city, any rival gang would have interest in getting the rid of him … anyway, what’s his name? Maybe you’re lucky, both of you...” I ask, checking again the beacon of the cigar. There are few hopes, but who knows…

“That’s the problem: no gang in the city would dare to hit a rank so high of a yakuza family so important!”

My breath block in the midway between my throat and my lungs and I almost choke as I stare at that doctor who, I hope for her, _is totally not going to say that name_.

“The person I need you to find is _Genji Shimada_.”

Shimada. A name, a condemnation. For me.

“Out of my office. Now.”

I need a drink. Where the fuck are my pills now?


	2. Cursed Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with the second chapter! Thank you for the kudos and tell me if there are mistakes in the chapter, I will correct. And tell me if you like the story!  
> Anyway, there's sexual content in this chapter, more or less. I've said it.   
> N. J.

“ _I didn’t expect a mutt like you was even able to read!”_

_I recognize the voice: one of the two rich pieces of shit I’m supposed to protect. The younger one. The one who is out every night to inhale expensive and refined coke from the asshole of a whore. Genji’s the name. It’s always a pain in the ass trying to get him out of trouble._

_At least, the payment is good._

_I don’t answer back, my shift is over for today and I don’t need to make a fool of myself and play his irritating game. We are in Shimada castle. I don’t think there’s a place more supervised in the city. It’s not a problem if I low the guard just a bit._

_I just glance at the couple of brothers; first Genji, bored by my lack of response and then Hanzo who usually looks at me as if I was the last piece of garbage of this Earth. This pisses me off, but at least he doesn’t bother me as the little brother does._

_They just finished … I dunno, I reckon the training in the dojo. Maybe the father wants them more similar to weapon than they already are. Both sweated and stinky, but almost royal with their composure. Well, Hanzo mostly. On the other hand, Genji can claim a self-esteem that makes him look fascinating even if covered with grime and fatigue._

_I hear a pair of steps shuffling away after a dialogue in Japanese I haven’t even pretend to eavesdrop. I can't understand a single word of the language._

“ _What are you reading?”_

_Whoa, I reckon this is the third time his majesty Hanzo Shimada speaks directly to me. I lift the book enough to let him read the title on the cover._

_He arches an eyebrow, skeptically. “And you understand the real meaning of this book? You surprise me...”  
An asshole, like the brother. Shimada family has such a low opinion of me. _

“ _The story of a young man who is looking for the Nirvana. Yeah, pretty sure I can handle it … I’m an ex-soldier, not an ex-hobo.”_

_Suddenly he comes closer; I can see every detail of that brilliant tattoo that runs down his arm, blue and stunning. Goddamn, doesn’t he have anything else to do rather then nagging me during my pause?_

“ _I didn’t take you for one who has this interest … and these tastes.” He’s skeptical. Don’t blame him._

“ _When I was at war, I used to read a book of poems. I got the meaning of just few of them, but I remember everyone by heart. I … I dunno, maybe it was a way to feel more human in that hell”._

_I dunno why I’m explaining this to Shimada. Maybe because I want him to think that I’m not just a stupid bodyguard, just able to draw the gun in and out the holster._

_The young prince says nothing, just stares at the book._

“ _We have a library, upstairs. Many books are in English. Help yourself” and then he goes away, bringing with him the musky and sweaty smell._

_I just stay there, wondering what happened in the last three minutes._

_\- - -_

“ _Did you find something good this time?”_

“ _Maybe, darlin’”. My ass is heavily placed on a couch in the library of the family, right after my shift in the morning. I will have another one tonight, but I can enjoy a moment for myself._

_Well, if Hanzo doesn’t piss off too much. But he doesn’t. Not anymore, at least._

_He seems even more approachable in this period. He doesn’t squint when I call him some pet-name. He asks about me more. He doesn’t look at me like I am crap. He smirks for my jokes too._

“ _I’m curious to hear you recite one of those poem you said you’ve learned by heart…”_

_I glance at him just once. His voice is sultry, appealing as it has always been but now it’s sensual right in my ear, a quick whisper just for me._

“ _Well, sugar, if there will be the occasion, why not?”_

_\- - -_

_Hanzo’s ass is round and soft, hot around my dick. His words and moans are a melody I won’t forget easily; they will be a pleasurable company for the loneliest nights of my future. His raven hair is a waterfall of black silk in my fingers as I pull it as right as I want._

_Who would have ever thought that one day I would be in the same bed of the Prince Hanzo Shimada, listening to him screaming my name as I fuck him as hard as I can?_

_His thin lips are glistening and plush: too many kisses, too many bites; there are tears of pleasure in the corner of his eyes and now I just want to put two of my fingers in his mouth, on his tongue and order him to suck them in the sheer of lust. The idea of me fucking him from behind and forcing him to do so – and Prince Shimada complying willingly – can easily be one of the most pornographic image I’ve have ever thought. That, and the one where we suck each other’s cock in a 69 position. I should suggest it for later._

_On his arm, his tattoo seems to shine. I’ve kissed it before, tasting Hanzo’s skin painted with the ink; I’ve tried to leave a hickey on his collarbone, right where dragon rests his winding tail near Hanzo’s heart._

“ _M-McCree”_

_Hanzo calling me like that is a sin. Too erotic, his voice frail and full of gasps._

“ _Tell me, sugar...” My voice isn’t different, tired and lustful._

_He says nothing, just stands on his knees to let his right hand slide on my nape and pull my hair. His breath is just a litany of praises and curses, his back damped with sweat against my chest. I don’t care._

“ _Don’t stop...” and he pulls my hair again, forces my face to turn against his own._

_The kiss is wet and frantic and obscene: just tongue and saliva between our lips._

_I exhale amused. “I wouldn’t dare … on your first time”_

_He bites my lips. Hard. I don’t care and stare in those burning irises, made of pure fire of indignation and pleasure._

_He has been insisting it is not, but I’ve read all the signs: his lack of relaxation when first I used my fingers; his shivers; that instant of insecure gaze in his eyes._

_It’s not his first time in general, of course, nor with a man. But it’s the first time he leaves the control of his to body to someone else._

_And he has choose me, among any other._

_I cannot understand the reason of this all. Or probably I don’t want to find it out._

“ _Mc-Cree...”_

“ _Darlin’ … I’ve got my dick ----- aaah – up your ass... isn’t time to call me with my name?” I object, thrusting harder until I feel his muscles squeezing around me._

“ _Jesse … tell me one of those poems...”_

_Why are you asking this right now, Prince Shimada? Right when you’re almost coming untoched, just for my cock?_

“ _Not in this moment...” I’m busy now._

_\- - -_

It has been years since last time I’ve dreamed about Hanzo Shimada and my life was going so well. It has taken just a blond medic naming Shimada family once to bring back every damned memory. And now they hunt me in my sleep.

I stare at the ceiling, laying on my bad while I feel the remaining of the dream hot and semi-hard between my thighs. I’ll deal with it later.

Angela Ziegler has cried when I’ve said her to go away; she begged me to help her because nobody would have done it. It's untrue, but I’m one of those who would keep the mouth shut about it.

She's doubled the payment, tears running on her soft cheeks, full of desperation.

I feel a monster if I reckon that it’s pay rise that has made me say “I will think about it.”

Accepting this job will surely put me on Hanzo’s path again. Am I ready to face him again? After all this time?

I wouldn’t say I’m afraid, but probably I'm anxious. And I don’t even know if he will be an enemy or an ally. I’m pretty sure he wants my head on a plate and surely I won’t let him take it. I still like it attached to my neck.

A pair of dark brown eyes haunt my mind, warm but full of grief, as the last time I’ve seen them.

A heavy ache settles in my stomach and I move Peacekeeper to take the phone on the bedside table and the business card with a number written on it with a black ink.

There’s the jar of pills for the PTSD that watches me sternly from the bedside, just behind the gun. I didn’t take the pills yesterday, in the end.

It doesn’t matter. This isn’t the moment.

I take a look at the business card again.

I already know I will regret every single thing I’ve done in the last eight hours, from the drinking to the dream to this.

“Doctor Ziegler? I’m Jesse McCree. I accept the assignment.”


End file.
